


Dragon Tongue

by akgerhardt



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alt title: dragon-elf dude loves his fairy bf, Fantasy, Friends With Benefits, Giant/Tiny, M/M, Macro/Micro, Magic, Mouthplay, Shapeshifting, Soft/Safe/Nonfatal/Willing Endosoma (The Vore Zone), Symbiotic Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 07:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17956289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akgerhardt/pseuds/akgerhardt
Summary: Magic is fun.





	Dragon Tongue

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be Original Content, but Homestuck filth permeates every aspect of my existence

He's half elf but dragonborn. How did that happen? Smart wizards try dumb things when they’re drunk. He has no parents, and she's the same age as him. He sometimes wonders if she was trying to make a boyfriend, but she would never give him grief over his disinterest.

Their relationship is a close one, but platonic. Her sister is a witch, and her sister-in-law is a vampire, so they're a pretty interesting bunch. Actually, almost everyone they know is on the magical spectrum. It’s difficult, if not impossible, to integrate with regular humans.

His dragon side can be inconvenient, as observable at the present. Sometimes he just… gets the urge to fully transform and chase things like a goddamn dog, so he indulges himself in the semi-privacy of the woods. Still, he’s not cruel. The spells he casts on himself ensure painfree and calming demises for his insect meals. He doesn’t know how they think, but he needs some kind of living protein and it's less guilt-inducing than eating critters or fish. He'd never admit it, but he’s a big softie.

He soars above the stream in swift silence, mouth open like a goddamn net. Mm, bugs. In his defense, he’s probably helping the ecosystem- the humans and dark magic users have virtually eliminated the natural predators that kept their populations in check. If he likes the squirmy sensation of bigger catches, it's no one's business.

By that logic, the large dragonfly-looking creature he spots becomes his next target. It sees him just a little too late and darts off as quickly as possible, zigzagging. That’s... unusual, but he likes a chase and wants to feel it doing that inside of him. It proves to be too fast for even him to best, so he cheats. He pauses to use a teleportation spell, then zaps in front of it with jaws wide. It can’t stop in time, but neither can he. The last thing he sees is the pixie’s terrified face as he crashes into his gullet and tumbles down. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.

His dragon throat is much larger and more slippery, so he switches back to elf and gags, trying to reverse his decent. He manages to heave him up, and he falls onto the spongy moss. He coughs, then wipes his mouth, kneeling down anxiously.

     “Shit, I'm so sorry. Thought you were a bug.”

He relaxes when he sits upright, gasping and shaking droplets off his large, iridescent wings. He smiles sheepishly when the pixie notices the source of the shadow looming over him.

“... I'm alive! You saved me from that ferocious beast!”

     “You don't know how tempting it is to go with that story. The beast is me, but I swear it was an accident.”

“Oh... It’s alright. Wouldn’t be the first time I was almost a snack! Seems that's just my lot in life, heh…”

He uses a cleaning spell to dry him off, then offers a finger to help him stand.

“What is your name, by the way? I'm Aros.”

     “Cyren.”

“No, your real name.”

…

     “How'd you know?!”

“Fairfolk make excellent lie detectors,” he grins.

     “They make even better meals.”

He’s not phased, waiting patiently.

“I promise, I won't tell!”

     “... Vorlad.”

He pauses in disbelief, then cracks up, laughing so hard that tears form.

     “You'll be a vored lad pretty soon if you don’t stop.”

“Ok, ok; Cyren it is.”

     “Thanks.”

“... Talk about fate,” he giggle-snorts. Cyren huffs embarrassedly.

“It’s alright; I'm not judging.”

     “You _are_ judging.”

“It’s not your fault that your parents sucked at choosing a moniker.”

     “I don’t have parents.”

“... Oh, frig; I'm so sorry.”

     “No, I mean, I was made by a tipsy wizard just for the hell of it. She’s now my best friend.”

“Ah. That’s a far more interesting backstory than most.”

He hums in agreement. They fall into silence, which is interrupted by a loud gurgle.

     “Sorry; I only filled it halfway.”

“By all means, get back to voring. I know a place loaded with invasive bugaboos!”

     “That’s much appreciated.”

He doesn't need to transform this time, as they're all on the ground. Aros watches him swallow mouthful after mouthful until he’s satisfied. He lays back on a boulder, rubbing his tummy contently.

“... That was pretty hot.”

     “Maybe _you_ should be named Vorlad.”

He laughs, flopping down next to his hand.

“Ooh, they're a wiggly bunch! Sounds like they're having a party in there.”

     “Bugs don't have fetishes.”

He does, though. He indulges in pressing Aros deeper, moving him around in light circles.

“No, don't- don't do that! You'll give me a boner!”

     “That a bad thing?”

“... I suppose not, heh.”

He continues, massaging him gently into his tummy now. He can feel the tiny knots and tense muscles, setting to alleviate them with his soft, warm fingertip.

He falls asleep with said boner, rousing when Cyren fails to stifle a jostling chuckle.

      “Is that a wand in your pants, or do you want me to suck you off?”

“... Your mouth is clean, right?”

     “Charmed to be, actually. And I swallow everything whole.”

“Then fuck yes, please.”

He subtly switches to dragon tongue to maximize his pleasure. Aros whimpers when he pins him between his sharp teeth to keep him from slipping down or out at one point, but he’s incredibly careful. He can't resist reaching into his pants to attend to himself as he licks, sucks, and hums, the hot, bumpy muscle wrapped around Aros and encompassing everything but his face at times. The enchantment has an aphrodisiac effect, and his breath smells like goddamn flowers. He comes until he loses consciousness, at which point Cyren drops him into his palm worriedly. When he wakes, he gives a shaky thumbs up.

     “Are you hurt?!”

“Not a bit! S- Sorry if I gave you a fright.”

     “Shit, I thought you were suffocating or something.”

“Nope! Just, ah, had more fun than I knew what to do with, I suppose. Heh…”

He dries him through an air conduit, then boops him with his nose before handing him his clothes back.

“Thanks… I think I could sleep for a whole friggin’ month.”

He smiles affectionately, laying him on his abdomen once more. They doze off, then proceed to enjoy the rest of the breezy summer day together and make plans for future meetings.

Winter brings with it the revelation that Aros does not have a hollow to call his own- he got lost the year prior in a violent storm. Cyren often wondered why he never saw other pixies, but he didn't want to ask. After a moment of hesitation, he murmurs, “I can be your hollow.”

“... You mean that in the literal sense, don't you?”

     “In whatever sense you want.”

“It would be a privilege,” he shivers. “And I’ll keep you nourished. Not like you've many dietary options this time of year, anyway!”

Cyren smirks, breath visible as it billows over him. He presses a kiss to his whole body, which is reciprocated on his lower lip. He wastes no time opening his mouth and letting Aros flit in, then closes it, rolling him around to soak him as he adjusts to the darkness. Aros folds his wings to his sides tightly, like usual, and then he scoots closer to the back, signaling Cyren to swallow.

It feels downright heavenly: all-encompassing, squeezing, constantly moving, warm, slick, soft, and pulsating. Cyren moans in pleasure at the difficulty he's having getting him down, pushing his fingers against him. Aros shudders as his vocal cords vibrate. The rhythm of his heart and lungs grow louder as he goes lower, and it takes everything in his power not to fuck his throat. When he finally squishes through the opening, he falls into plushness. The organ welcomes him with a symphony of sounds, and his voice reverberates.

      “Mm, god, you were delicious.”

He lights a wisp, relieved to find his new chambers unoccupied and clean, as promised. Using the heat energy around him, he fills it with a thick, nutritious gel, solid enough for him to rest on without sinking but viscous enough to digest despite the antacid spell. Cyren presses his hand against him, inhaling.

     “Fuck, that… feels amazing. So *hic* full…”

He sighs contently, rubbing where he can feel Aros doing so on the other side. Aros focuses, channeling his thoughts to him.

“Thank you. I'll be hibernating for a while, but rest assured that you'll stay satisfied.”

     “Talk about friends with benefits,” he laughs. “Sweet dreams, Tinkerbell.”

The kick he gets is faint and ticklish.

     “... Seriously though, thanks.”

When the spring comes, he'll introduce him to his friends. For now, he'll just jack it. 


End file.
